


Can You Fix What's Broken?

by Two_DollarBILL



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-06 09:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14054355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_DollarBILL/pseuds/Two_DollarBILL
Summary: Rick Sanchez's life is really fucked up and he is not handling it very well. He almost makes the biggest mistake of his life which leads him to unconventionaly meet a man he once considered an enemy. They quickily become friends and Rick's not really sure what it means, what he wants it to mean, or if it even means anything at all. All he knows is that ever since Stanley Pines entered his life, it's changed. But one question still rattles around in his mind making him question just about every decision he makes: did meeting Stan fix him, or will it endup leaving him more broken than he was before?Tw: suicide attempt and some blood





	1. Solutions

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm planning on this being a pretty long fic so I apologize for how short this first chapter is. I also apologize for this angst! I don't know why I've attempted to write something with such a dramatic beginning! After a while though, the chapters will become longer and contain gradually more and more fluff; the angst won't last for ever!

     Rick stared out the window, contemplating his next move. He’d been doing this for the past hour. This was not a decision to make hastily; this was life changing. It was cold outside, freezing. He sat so close to the window that condensation had formed in places where his warm breath met the cold glass. That almost surprised him. The past week had been hell. He’d been spending his time running his mind over every event that took place. It was just... too much. He sat there, wanting to scream and cry and just do _something_ so that even for a little bit, he would be distracted enough to not feel how he felt right now... _hopeless_ , his mind supplied: he felt really fucking hopeless. Sure, he’d felt like this in the past, in fact, that emotion pretty much summed up his whole damn life, but this time, it was different and that thought scared him. 

  
  
    Currently, he was existing outside of a really shitty apartment that he could barely afford. His apartment was located between two other rooms on the third floor of a four story apartment complex. On days when he wasn’t getting shit faced he was practicing... with his band.. in his apartment...  ~~singing~~ _screaming_ The Flesh Curtains song's lyrics. He was pretty much the worst neighbor ever, not that he gave a shit. Though, it was annoying considering how he got an average of two noise complaints a week. He really should have been kicked out by now-it happened at the other apartments. As much as he hated the apartment, how fucking broke he was, and just his shitty life itself, he hated the neighbor on his left side the most. That guy had some real balls. When ever he got pissed off because of Rick's “over-the-top” noise, he would literally _punch the wall_  then yell at him to shut up. Who the fuck even does that?? Whenever this happened, Rick would do the same thing back or just purposly be _even louder,_ so this usually resulted in screaming matches through the paper-ass thin excuse of a wall.

  
  
     Right now though, Rick didn’t have time to think about how much he hated _that fucking guy_ because he hated himself more. He was now trying really fucking hard not to cry, but he just couldn’t fucking handle it. He felt like he was going to have a fucking psychotic episode.

  
  
     At first, he started laughing at literally nothing as a sad attempt to keep himself from crying. But he just couldn’t fucking hold it in so he started crying while laughing and he felt like he was losing it. He could hear grumbles coming from the rooms next door to him because he wasn’t exactly being quiet but that didn’t even matter. It wasn’t enough to just obnoxiously laugh and cry anymore. He started screaming. No more laughing, s c r e a m i n g. He had to get rid of these emotions. He tried reaching for his flask but he fucking couldn’t. The faucets that were his eyes were blurring up his vision and nothing made sense because he couldn’t see. He was berating around his room while screaming profanities and crying and trying to find his booze and decided that he couldn’t go on. He couldn’t do it. _He couldn't fucking do it._ The tears streamed down his face and his head was so foggy and he felt like there’s not going back from what he was about to do but he had to do it.

  
  
     He looked to the window and slammed his fist into it. It didn’t break. He slammed into it again. It didn’t break. He yelled and then grabbed the nearest object by him and hurled it at the window with all of his strength. It cracked. Just a few more hits. He dropped the object he had previously used and started slamming his fists into the glass again and again and again. He could hear his neighbor on the left throwing insults through the walls but he couldn’t fucking deal with him right now. There was blood running from his fists and some glass stuck out of his hands. With one more hit to the glass, the entire window shattered, making a particularly loud noise, possibly even louder than his screaming. He stood before it. Just sobbing silently now. This was it.

  
  
     His head was too loud to hear the insistent noise coming from the door behind him. Perhaps someone was pounding on it? He couldn’t really find himself to care. But then suddenly, the door exploded open. Rick didn’t even turn around. He just stood there, his tears finally giving up. He stared emptily out the window frame and to the parking lot outside. He heard a voice, but it was so far away, so distant, he couldn’t decipher what it was saying. He took a step closer to the ledge of the window seal. Just staring at the ground. Nothing even felt real. He didn’t even feel like he was walking towards it. The voice behind him became louder, almost sounding panicked.

  
  
    He slowly closed his eyes. He didn’t even hear anything anymore. As his eyes shut, he entered a void that was only known to him. He drew in a shaky breath, the tears on his cheeks drying. He felt a light breeze on his face coming from the nonexistent window. He was going to do this. He needed too. He took a step forward.

  
  
    A hand. That voice again. Fingers wrapped around his forearm. The voice begged him to stop. He stepped forward and then- 

 

Nothing.


	2. Remember?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick doesn't remember most of what happened that night, but the man who saved his life sure does.

    Consciousness slowly flooded Rick’s mind until he was functioning at full cognitive ability. He was awake, but refused to open his eyes. With his eyes still closed, Rick tried to assess his surroundings in probably not the brightest way possible. First, he sniffed the air. It smelled sterile; the kind of sterile that could only be achieved by a hospital. Hospitals had always represented the notion of injury, death, and disease to Rick which meant, most likely, that something bad had happened to him. Rick's heart immediately started beating faster and he prayed to god that his bmp wasn’t being monitored. As inconspicuous as possible, Rick cracked open an eye. A blinding light overwhelmed his sights so he quickly clamped his eyes shut to avoid the fluorescent glare, attempting to shield his tightly closed eyes with his arm. That’s when he realized he couldn’t move his arms. He tried again but to no avail. Now that he considered it, he couldn’t even _feel_ his arms past his elbows.

 

    Not having control over his body freaked him the fuck out so he quickly burst open both eyes and sat up. As he had already figured out, he was in a hospital. Everything was a blinding bright white; the plain walls, his sagging bed, the medical equipment. The clinical atmosphere disturbed him. He looked to his right arm first to see that it had sustained multiple bandages and some small visible wounds. He then shot his glance to his left arm, to see it in a cast. The cast went from just below his elbow, along the length of his forearm, and engulfed his hand completely. He glared at the cast. He then attempted to move his left hand but nothing happened. With a slight pang of worry hitting him, he tried again. When it still wouldn’t move, he concluded with slight discomfort that he must have sustained nerve damage. _'_ _But nerve damage from what?'_ He could not recall. Pushing that query aside for the moment, he decided to inspect his legs to see if they were damaged as well only to find that his toes were the only thing visible as the rest of him was covered in a tacky floral print hospital gown. He looked so fucking stupid. Deciding to ignore his utterly embarrassing clothing for the minute, he moved on to see if was able to move his legs at all. He wiggled his toes. 

 

    Everything that had been known to Rick for the past ten minutes he has been awake have been new and confusing discoveries, but the far most confusing was the thing to the right of him. To the right of his bed a man was leaning slightly forward from a thinly cushioned chair; he wore a  perplexed expression and was just staring at Rick. Rick quickly returned the gaze by glaring at the man, his gaze heavy with indignation even before realization hit of who this man was. Then he remembered; he’s Rick's asshole of a neighbor! He recognized him since the man had parked in his fucking parking spot “accidentally” on purpose multiple times AND HE CAN PROVE IT if only the landlord were willing to listen to his very convincing case. Rick hated this man. Anger distracted him from asking actual questions like ‘Why was this man here?’  and, ‘In a hospital room with Rick?’

 

    The man stared at Rick with an almost, (relieved?), expression. The man did not look good. His hair was clearly greasy and filled with grime. His clothes appeared unwashed and the fabric looked cheap; his shoes were worn and ancient. His face was the worst though. He appeared to be unshaven and unclean. His eyes were pulled down by bags of fatigue. His smile deemed a hopeful yet worried expression, and something about his demeanor screamed unsure. He was holding a magazine that he hadn’t looked interested in since he was aware Rick noticed him. Considering that he probably knew Rick the same way Rick knew him, Rick was weirded out by the guys un-hateful expression, which only caused his glare to intensify. 

 

“Uh... hey?” the man offered with an awkward smile and small wave. The wave seemed rather extra. Rick didn’t respond. The man faltered slightly, but slightly enough that most probably wouldn’t have noticed. “Are you-“ he cut himself off and instead of inquiring Rick any more, shut his mouth that had been rudely hanging open, and frowned, staring at Rick. Rick gave him a judgmental look as if to say, ‘ _What?_ ’ The man didn’t respond. The tension in the air was only getting thicker and the silence was bordering on awkward. Luckily, that’s when the nurse walked in. 

 

“Glad to see your awake!” the nurse greeted in a cheery yet careful tone. Rick just grumbled in a response but didn’t say anything. The nurse just smiled and continued, “I’m Nancy, your nurse! I’ll be out of your hair in a minute; I just gotta check your vitals,” the nurse, Nancy, was so happy about how she did things it was almost off-putting. She contentedly hummed to herself as she went about the room, doing her nursly duties, occasionally asking Rick a yes-or-no question. Rick watched her as she walked around doing seemingly random and unrelated things before finally turning to Rick. “So,” She crooned, “As of now, everything looks great!” she pointedly flicked her eyes down to Rick’s cast and gave sort of a side-shrug, “Well, as great as everything _can_ be right now,” she gave him a look that was probably meant to look sympathetic, but just ended up looking condescending. She then turned back to her usual beaming expression, “Any who,” _'Of course she’d be the kind of person who says ‘any who,'_ Rick’s inner monologue chided bitterly, “If you need anything or if you have any questions, don’t be afraid to ask!” she then turned on her heel and briskly strode out of the room, not even waiting to see if he actually had any questions. What an weird woman; Rick couldn’t tell if she was genuinely kind, or if all the niceties was a façade. Preoccupied by his thoughts about Nancy, Rick forgot that the man was still there, so he startled when Rick heard him clear his throat.

 

“Hey… again,” the man said awkwardly. “listen I, uh-“ he quite suddenly turned from being unsure and unconfident to completely serious, though his eyes remained sad, “Do you know why yer’ here?” what a peculiar question. Partially why it was so peculiar was because Rick had no fucking idea why he was here. 

 

     Despite Rick’s pride, and even though he was entirely uncomfortable with admitting he didn’t know what was going on, he decided to, for once, answer truthfully, “No,” it must not have seemed like that big of a deal to the man, but it was a huge deal for Rick to admit that.

 

“That’s what… that’s what I thought,” then he dropped his gaze to the floor and didn’t talk again. Rick stared at him in confusion

 

“Well,” Rick made a gesture with his hands that blatantly said, _'Go on.'_   When he received a confused look from the man, Rick exasperatedly sighed, “Well, are you gonna tell me?”

 

The man looked up with a genuinely confused expression, “Tell ya’ what?”

 

Rick gestured around the room, “Tell me why I'm here?!” he said with a scrutinizing tone.

 

“Oh. Yeah,” _What an idiot_ , Rick thought.

 

     So the man began telling Rick what happened, Rick becoming all the more aware with every word he spoke. The more the man spoke, the darker the man's expression grew. He had a far off look in his eyes, the kind that might insinuate that he was recalling a traumatizing memory. He got to a certain point in the story where he seemed the most disturbed and it disturbed Rick just seeing the man look so disturbed. _He really shouldn’t be reliving that night_ , Rick thought.

 

“... you had this look on yer face. You looked, gone, there’s no other way to explain it. I, I don’ know if you could hear me or— it, it wasn’ um, it was an expression that I’ve seen only once before, and,” he paused and Rick could tell that this he needed to stop. His face contorted and he felt the weirdly intense need to try to comfort this man, but, instead, he just waited. Hoping to convey his thoughts through patience. 

 

After a decent pause, the man let out a sigh, “Anyways, I got you before ya, _y’know_ , and I drove ya to th’ hospital, an’ you’ve been here since,” he finished on an uneven note. 

 

     Rick contemplated how he should even respond to that. He thought of saying things from ' _Why didn’t you just let me jump?'_ To, ' _Thank you for not letting me jump.'_ Rick didn’t even know what he wanted to happen that night but it hardly matters now. 

 

“Why did you stay?” he settled on, his vision cast down. He hated how weak his voice sounded.

 

“I wanted ta’ make sure you were okay,” Rick nodded in response. He then laid back on the hospital bed, unsure of what to do now. He silently thanked the man that he stayed with him. He knew it was pathetic, but he didn’t have anybody else. What can he say? It felt good to know that at least someone cared if he was alive or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOO WEE THIS CHAPTER DIDN'T GO IN THE DIRECTION I INITIALY INTENDED FOR IT TO GO AT ALL!


	3. Why Should I Care?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Man lies about something to Rick... but Rick doesn't really give a fuck.

     Rick hated sleep. _It was a waste of time_ , he reasoned; especially for him. He could understand how it didn't matter if other people slept for hours, but he was different. He shouldn't be held back by such a mundane thing as sleep. Despite this, Rick's views on sleep were appearing rather hypocritical since he had been sleeping so often and acted lethargic for the short increments of time that he was not submerged in slumber. Most of all of his time at the hospital was spent in the realm of dreams.

 

     Time always appeared to be dragged out, sometimes appearing to be almost quiescent while visiting the hospital. At least it seemed that way to Rick. He wasn't quite sure exactly how long he had been there for, and he didn't trust his sense of time, but he knew that it had had to have been a few days minimum. Usually by now, Rick would have just _left_ the hospital, in spite of his doctors’ protests, and drive home, but two obstacles prevented him from doing so; 1) He has no car to drive home, 2) Even if he had a car at the hospital with him, he could not drive it due to the fragileness of his now useless and badly scathed arms.

 

     However much Rick hates being in the hospital he understands why he needs to be there; everyone at the hospital is there for a reason and surly no rational person would voluntarily visit the hospice without causation. For this reason, Rick is confused. The man who had driven him to the hospital, his neighbor who he-used-to-hate-but-now-is-thinking-that-he’s-actually-not-so-bad is still at the hospital with him. Even though Rick finds his presence pleasant, not that he’d actually _tell him_ that of course, Rick didn't understand _why_ he was still there. He had a car to drive and an apartment to drive back too. He said that he just wanted to make sure Rick was okay, but did that already… so why was he still here? Never one for being subtle, Rick felt so inclined to ask.

 

     Rick shifted in the small hospital cot so that he could see him; the man was sitting on the same chair he had been sitting on three days ago! The nurse had never commented on his presence and neither did Rick, really.

 

     He didn't look too invested in the magazine that he was rereading for probably the twentieth time, so Rick thought it seemed fit to disturb him.

 

“Hey, man,” the man looked up towards Rick which allowed for him to get the first clear glimpse of his face in what felt like days. _Jesus_ , Rick thought, _he looks horrible_. “W, why are you s, s, still here?”

 

     At that, the man's eyes suddenly widened and he looked as though his darkest secret had just been exposed to the world. He, quite suddenly, stood up from the chair that now had an imprint of his ass on it and swiftly strode over to Rick’s bed, staring at Rick with just a hint of mania caressing his eyes. Rick coward away from the man with a distressed frown.

 

“W, what the f, fuck,” Rick stammered to himself, quietly enough that he was unsure if the man had heard him say it.

 

“I lied,” the man whispered without offering a further explanation.

 

“T, the fuck y, you talkin’abou—”

 

“I lied about why I’m here,” Rick's face contorted into a bewildered grimace. “I mean I didn’t, I jus’—” he bit his lip. “I just withheld some a’ the truth,” he cast a shameful glance downward and appeared to be seething with guilt.

 

“L, l, listen, man,” Rick said, still holding the confused and slightly judgmental contortion on his face. “I h, have n, no fucking I, I, idea what you’re talking about,” Rick explained, trying to keep his voice even. “B, but c, could you please get offa me?” he said slightly harsher than intended.

 

“Sorry,” the man muttered quietly, backing off of Rick. But instead of sitting back down in his chair again, the man grabbed the chair and painfully scrapped it across the linoleum floor in an attempt to bring it closer to Rick’s bed, all the while frantically looking around to see if anyone had noticed what he was doing, acting like he was committing some kind of obscene crime, the idiot. He leaned in close to Rick again. Rick inwardly groaned in frustration.

 

“Something happened,” Rick looked at him quizzically. “I was… I was evicted.”

 

“... Okay?” Rick looked at the man wondering why the fuck he told him such random information.

 

“No—I don’ think you get it; I was e v i c t e d,” the man enunciated; as if telling Rick more slowly would better communicate what he was trying to convey. Rick just offered a hapless look.

 

“Listen, no offence but I don't really g, give a f, f, fuck if you were kicked out of your apartment or not; I, I could seriously care less.”

 

“...You, you _really_ don’ understand?” the man's voice was laced in a highly condescending tone.

 

     Rick fumed. _How dare this dumbass insinuate that he was too stupid to understand something? How dare he allude to Rick being anything other than a fucking genius?_

 

“L, listen asshole; I, I, I don’t know who the fuck y, you think y, you are but—”

 

“Geez calm down; I, I wasn' trying to insult yer’ intelligence or nothin’ I, I’m not sure why I assumed that y’would, _understand_ I mean, now that I think ‘bout it, it doen’ really make sense since you weren’ privy to—” Rick interrupted his ramble.

 

“Y, your p, point?” he asked harshly.

 

“Right, sorry. Sometimes I just start ranting and then I forget what I’m talking about an—” Rick gave an exasperated sigh. Embarrassment flushed the man's cheeks and he started again. “Well,” the man started gesturing with his hands, moving them in the motion of an old-timey Ferry Boats’ motor. “I’ve been... sortta… well...” Rick gave up trying to understand what he was saying. _So fucking annoying_ droned Rick’s inner monologue. Rick’s bipolar attitude was certainly something;  he had felt so _enraged_ just a few moments ago, and now he’s the most apathetic and least caring person in the room.

 

“Hmm?” Rick monotoned boredly.

 

“A, actually, uh…” his voice was high and wavered slightly. He looked around nervously. “I’m here so I can drive you back home and, uh, that’s the only reason,” he was clearly lying.

 

“W, whaaatever, man,” Rick rolled over so that he was on his back and just stared up at the light that was hanging directly above his bed, not caring about how it temporarily impaired his vision; anything was better than listening to the man sludge on about some shit again.

 

“Okay…” the man coughed conspicuously, finally moving his chair back to it’s rightful spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is some mediocre shit... the original chapter was twice as long but I'm too lazy to edit so I'll post the next chapter really soon. I had so many plans for this at the beginning, and now, I'm only on chapter 3 and I have no fucking idea where this is going lol.


	4. Hospital Gowns and Old Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick is done with being at the hospital for so long so he takes it upon himself to leave. When he finally does, his departure gets a little weird, however, he does still get that free ride home.

 Rick checked the clock. 3:30pm. Throughout the rest of the day, the man kept strangely glancing over at Rick as if he wanted to tell him something, but was too afraid to. Rick hated to admit it, but something about their conversation left him feeling confused. As much as he told himself that he didn’t care about whatever it was that the man refused to tell him, he still wanted to know; it was slowly killing him. He didn’t want to inquire the man again for fear that he’d scare him off and then Rick wouldn’t have a free ride home. Thinking of which, when  _ was  _ he allowed to leave from this wretched place? He had been here for far too long. By now, he had assumed that he would be allowed to go home or, the more likely outcome, was forced into a mental hospital on account of him desperately trying to take his own life. 

 While he was distracted by his thoughts, he didn’t notice his nurse come in, followed by his doctor.

   The nurse was walking slightly in front of his doctor, and not because they couldn't both walk through the door frame at the same time. Since the chair that the man had now sat in for a few days straight was adjacent to the doorway, the nurse,  _ Nancy _ Rick recalled, saw him first. Her false smile faltered as she saw him; she gave him a feigned disappointed look accompanied by a slight head shake in disapproval. The man looked too nervous to perceive her masked judgment. 

  Rick looked up at the nurse who had resumed quietly chatting with the doctor. His doctor cleared his throat.

“So, on account of this hospital being just recently built, we haven't found the time to acquire an adequate staff as of yet so things haven't been running as, um,  _ smoothly _ as we’d like them too. Because of this we haven't been able to mark a few things down that were supposed to have been written down immediately after your arrival here, so that must be taken care of before you depart. On a side note, your arm has been healing very well and so we trust that you will make a speedy recovery--”

“Great.” Rick monotoned.

“Yes, it uh, well, I suppose it is, so we’ll be happy to send you on your way after we just ask you a few questions.”

   Rick growled. Answering questions just for the sake of writing  _ something _ down was completely stupid and a total waste of time. 

“Li, li, listen buddy; you just gave me the green-light to go here so I’m, I’m not going to just sit here and answer a bunch of your stupid questions,” he then stood up and started trying to walk out of the room.

“But Mr. Sanchez! We haven’t yet discussed how you'll pay your bill! Or--” Rick just kept walking.

   It only occurred to him after the fact, as he received many wide-eyed stares from passing patrons, that he remember that he wasn’t indeed, wearing real clothes; he was wearing--only wearing--a backless hospital gown that took the appearance of a barber's cape. 

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, slightly wanting to die. He then starkly turned around and marched back to his room.

“W, w, where the fuck are my clothes?”  Nancy, the doctor, and Rick’s neighbor all stared up at him. Nancy and the doctor looked petrified with their eyes wide and mouths agape while his neighbor was desperately attempting to stifle his laughter. 

“F, fuck it; I’ll find it myself.” He then started stumbling down the hallway towards the receptionists desk.

   Having overheard the conversation and not wanting to get too involved with whatever  _ this _ situation was, the receptionist quickly fetched a large ziplock looking bag that had been labeled in his full name; his clothes were visible underneath the transparent plastic of the bag. She held it out with a disturbed look on her face as he slapped it out of her hand with the ferocity of a petulant child. He then marched himself back to the room he had been staying in, hoping to find his neighbor for his promised free ride home.

   He quickly reached the room again only to find it empty.

“S, shit,” he swore under his breath. Where the hell did that fucker go? Deciding to take advantage of his time, he put back on his clothes from the bag. As stupid as he felt like it was, seeing the clothes he wore from that night triggered some rather unwanted and unpleasant memories. He had not had proper time nor adequate setting to deal with and fully process everything that had happened that night. He’d been trying to avoid thinking about it, but it felt inevitable to not to. As he pulled on the clothes, he noticed with small repugnance how much blood coated the sleeves of his shirt. The articles of clothing even without the blood were very gross, so Rick cast a disgruntled look at them. Finally having his clothes back and on his body, he went in search of the man.

   He started peering down hallways and into different rooms, silently cursing himself for not swiping the guys keys when he had the chance. Walking around the hospital, he noticed that it seemed really hectic, like everything had just been thrown together at the last minute; it was as if nobody here actually had real experience or even knew what they were doing. Some of the lights flickered and were completely off in other corridors. Nurses seemed to be frantically running around. 

   Before he knew it, he had somehow circled back to the receptionist desk. 

“Damnit!”

 He started complaining and grumbling,deciding to look from a new direction, getting really close to just saying “fuck it” and attempting to walk home, when the man suddenly appeared beside him. He was running. Really fast. As he passed by Rick, he had taken hold of his upper arm and yanked him along.

“TIME TO GO,” he yelled as he started dragging him along by his right arm; Rick had to resist the temptation to yell out in pain.

“WHAT?” he yelled back instead. Then, from behind him, he heard what sounded like a moderately sized mob of people chasing him. Suddenly, the fire alarm went off and bells and screaming drowned out all conceivable noise. Rick was august with what was happening, and surely confused as hell, yet, he blindly followed wherever it was that the man was trying to get too, which was probably the parking lot. 

    Busting out of a side door, the man released Rick’s arm and started sprinting towards an old car; the maroon paint on it was chipped and the windshield had a small but growing crack on it. None of the windows were tinted so you could pretty easily see the mess that was the inside of the car. It only now occurred to Rick that this man could be trying to abduct him, but the crowd of people chasing them was enough of a convincer for him to just get in the car. But why were the people chasing him, though? Was that a police officer in the crowd? WHAT WAS HAPPENING??

    He yanked open the passenger door and threw himself inside, trying to ignore the flashes of overwhelming pain coming from his arms. The man did the same and started to frantically jam the key into the ignition,  _ praying _ that it would work. When the engine turned over he shouted in triumph, like it was rare for his car to actually start.

“FUCK YES!” as soon as the car started rumbling to life, they peeled out of the parking lot, rounded the corner, and then and sped out onto the freeway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read!


End file.
